Brothers
by Etruscan Empire and GothFrance
Summary: France and Germany are brothers in blood; how does this affect their relationship during the French Occupation of WWII? No pairings. Family in a VERY different sense than what you probably think. Rated T for some pretty unforgivable stuff on Germany's part. (And I apologize; I subtly rant about a certain event at the end.)


**In this quick break from writing "The Other France," I found out recently that the area of Gaul included areas of Western Germany as well as France… meaning Germany and France are brothers. The plot bunny then mated with a "The Kill" by 30 Seconds to Mars and gifted me with this depressing little wonder.**

* * *

Bonnefoy.

Beilschmidt.

The Frenchman was surprised no one had caught on yet. His similarity in appearance to the German, the shared blond hair and blue eyes, their nearby locations, the similarity of their names. And yet, not one Nation had questioned it.

And why should they? France's hatred for the other blond seemed to sometimes exceed his rivalry with England. All through history, even with their respective fathers still alive, swords clashed, musket-shots tore through nigh-immortal flesh, poisoned gasses made tears of blood fall from dull eyes.

France and Germany. Enemies. Allies. Blood-brothers.

And what a _caring_ brother he was, too. So considerate, making sure France couldn't get himself into any more silly wars, pinning him under steel-toed boots and Nazi flags so that he couldn't fight back again.

Said brother observed the Frenchman under his heel with an air of amusement. "Why give up the name Mutter gave you? I was so sure it used to be Franz instead of Francis…"

Ah, they were back to this. France refused to acknowledge the man—his brother—instead favoring the shiny wood floor over those cold, blue eyes.

"Oh, but you couldn't _stand_ that, couldn't bear your dear Vater knowing you were the brother of _me_, the savage son to his greatest rival." Germany spit into France's downturned gaze out of contempt. "And he hated you anyways. _Armselig._"

Still, France refused to look up at him, had refused to meet his gaze even when Germany had marched—victorious—into his capital, branded his swastika in the Frenchman's calf, made him bleed and scream in agony while the Frenchman's allies deserted him. Blue refused to meet blue, the same shade as their mother's eyes (bless her forgotten heart).

Finally, France deigned to reply. "So says the one who was so keen to take up the name of 'Roman' after he was no longer around to reclaim it." A ghost of his former self-satisfied smirk flashed across the Frenchman's lips. "And now you tell your people that you are the reincarnation of him?"

Germany sent a powerful kick towards the Frenchman's pallid cheek. "I _am_ the Third Reich! You will bow before me as you have done all your pathetic life!" Another kick, staining the soft skin an angry red. "Say it! _Sieg Heil! Sieg—_"

His breath caught in his throat, coming out as a fearful choking noise. France had turned his gaze upward at last, sunken eyes a shade of deepest lilac-grey to match his colorless flesh, his disdain for the other man radiating from within. The Frenchman spat a mouthful of blood that had collected from the German's kicks.

The Third Reich found himself terrified.

A single word crossed the other's lips in the wake of his crimson blood, a word that made Germany's insides freeze and his legs take the rest of him a fair distance away from the Frenchman lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

"Brother."

In response, the younger blond lashed out, pulling the riding crop holstered in his belt and striking it across France's poorly protected back, bloody welts making themselves known as dark patches on the Frenchman's thin shirt. France could do naught but grit his teeth and bear the pain.

Seeing that his treatment wasn't having the desired effect, Germany leaned in close to France's ear, a vicious grin itching to break out on his features. "Do you want to know how she died, our Mutter? You probably think it was something tragic, something noble." That grin fought its way up, baring Germany's teeth in a wicked snarl. He shouted mockingly, "I cut her throat, Frankreich, and had my way with her dead body!"

France shrieked and launched himself at the German, manicured nails more like claws as he tore his brother's flesh, pearly teeth more like fangs as he sank them into his arm, drawing as much of the Aryan's blood as he could, and screaming all the while, his voice a terrifying war cry. "Vous ne méritez pas de partager son sang! Salaud! Misérable! Écume de la terre!" Another scream, and his words devolved into furious gibberish as France spouted every curse in every language, damning the German to a private room in Hell which he could most certainly guarantee to be set aside for him and his beloved Fuhrer. The younger fought back desperately, outmatched by the sheer, cold fury behind each punch and bite and scratch.

The Third Reich found himself wondering how he was going to keep his older brother controlled.

And in that same instance, France suddenly stopped, falling to the side and curling into a ball of denial, his whole being fading to a uniform shade of melancholy grey. Salty tears fell and joined with the French and German blood congealing on the floor. Blood so similar, yet so very different.

Mother's blood.

And brother's blood.

* * *

**… I think this may have turned into a test to see how much of an asshole I could make Germany. Did I succeed? I think so.**

**Translations and Notes: (Most of the German was on my own, by the way.)**

** -armselig: pathetic**

** -sieg Heil: the Nazi vocalization often used with the straight-armed salute; literally meaning "victorious salvation" (probably due to Hitler's promises of making Germany strong again after his loss in WWI)**

** -Frankreich: France**

** -Vous ne méritez pas de partager son sang! Salaud! Misérable! Écume de la terre!: You do not deserve to share her blood! Bastard! Wretch! Scum of the earth!**

** -the swastika on France's calf: a reference to the Nazi puppet government set up in Vichy, France after France's surrender in 1940**

** -France's abandonment: a reference to the Miracle at Dunkirk, in which the British soldiers sent to aid the French instead turned tail and retreated with the aid of all available British seafaring vessels when the German army arrived**

** -France's original name as "Franz": a reference to the Germanic origins of the Franks, the group of people who conquered France after the fall of the Roman Empire**

** -France's guarantee of Germany's private room in Hell: this relates to a oneshot I wrote using my OC for Hell; he became as a son to France after he failed to aid the nobility during the French Revolution (If you want, I'll publish that oneshot on here as well.)**

** -France's eyes and skin getting progressively greyer: my personal headcanon that, while he is under foreign rule, France falls into a sort of living death out of despair, which is shown by the fading of his eyes and skin tone**


End file.
